


except for me to be with you (when nothing really mattered)

by disarmed



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Barebacking, Come Eating, Come Sharing, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Minor Character Death, Older Man/Younger Woman, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voice Kink, brief mention of fisting, but they are very minor - Freeform, coffeshop!au, true and utter filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24199795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disarmed/pseuds/disarmed
Summary: “What can I get you?” Poe asks sweetly.“Espresso, doppio.” Ben pauses, and Rey squeezes her eyes shut. “Is Rey working today, by any chance?”“Yes,” Poe says brightly. Rey hangs her head in defeat. “She’s hiding behind the counter.”What a fuckingtraitor.(Or: the coffeeshop AU that nobody asked for)
Relationships: Chewbacca/Maz Kanata, Finn/Rose Tico, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 21
Kudos: 449





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, this was supposed to be like 5-7k of fun and fluff and explicit sexual content all wrapped up in one of my goddamn favorite tropes that has ever existed in fandom: the coffeeshop!au. yet here we are, almost twenty thousand words later, and i hope that you enjoy it as much i did. 
> 
> content warning: explicit, and, i cannot say this loud enough, sexually explicit content (lbr, that's what you're here for). v minor dom/sub undertones if you squint. whole lot of praise + voice kink.

Her alarm goes off with all the thrill and enthusiasm it’s small, cheap, plastic body can muster on low-grade batteries; the shrill wail piercing through the heavy shroud of sleep that Rey desperately clings to, her eyes sealed shut and her cheek pressed to her pillow. For the briefest of moments, as she’s dragged unceremoniously from the depths of her slumber into the harsh, shitty reality that it is a _Tuesday_ and she has _classes_ and _work_ ; she imagines staying in bed, utterly unrepentant, and calling in sick for her shift and skipping her bio-chem lab. 

So deeply embedded in her own, slothful fantasy is she, that before she can think about gathering the required energy to roll over and turn off her alarm, someone _does it for her_. 

“Excuse me?” she mumbles into her pillow, affronted. 

Honestly, how _rude_ , thinks Rey, as a sideline to her lazy-day fantasy, the likes of which is slowly dissipating. If you’re going to ignore hook-up etiquette, (have the common decency to _leave_ after the deed is done, sneak out in the middle of the night, or at the very least; take a cat nap in the post-orgasmic glow before unceremoniously gathering your things in the dark and high tailing it before dawn), like her current bed partner is so obviously prone to doing, then the last thing you should be doing is _touching_ someone else's' things with a sense of proprietary freedom. 

Rey feels very strongly about people touching her _things_. 

“Don’t touch my things,” she mumbles, louder, fingers clenching in the sheets. Christ, she hasn’t been awake ten minutes and she’s already in a bad mood. 

“I would hardly expect you to mind,” says an amused voice beside her. It's low and rumbling, a soft and smoky timbre to it. It comes from slightly higher up from where her head is pillowed. He’s probably tall. Rey does like them tall. 

“Of course I mind,” she gripes. 

“You hardly minded when I was touching _you_ ,” comes the silky reply. 

Rey bristles immediately. “Get out!” She sits up, furious, sheets tangling around her legs. “Out,” she repeats. Her hair falls into her eyes and she shoves it out of her face, settling on her knees with the sheets wrapped around her body in a horrible imitation of a Greek marble statue. 

The guy from last night (Rey does _remember_ him, and she remembers picking him up. He’d been quiet and brooding in the corner of the bar, dark eyes and dark hair with an air of superiority that had Rey thinking terrible, filthy thoughts) is so incredibly _close_ (it’s a twin bed, she shouldn’t be surprised at the proximity, really) that it makes her pause for a moment, words stuck in her throat as her brain desperately searches for something appropriately insulting to say. 

“Out,” she repeats, with less bite, no insults forthcoming.

He throws his hands up. “Alright.” He stands, unabashed in his nakedness, to search for his possessions. 

Rey sits silently, counting the moles on the wide plane of his shoulders, all the way down to his tapered waist, while he bends down to pick up his jeans and slide into them; pale skin disappearing from view as he pulls them up his legs. He is _very_ tall, and Rey thinks smugly to herself that she made a halfway decent call on that, among other things, if the ache between her legs is anything to go by. She shifts deliberately to aggravate the throb, and is met with a flashback of his mouth on her neck and a large hand cupping her breast; her legs tight around his hips as he pushes his - delightfully - sizable cock into her. 

His keys jingle as he picks them up from her dresser, and she’s mildly surprised to see he’s shrugged his shirt on, as well as found his shoes and socks, in the time that she’s spent thinking about their tryst. He plucks his jacket from where it is laid neatly across Finn’s untouched bed. Rey’s brow furrows; where the hell is he? Not that she doesn’t mind in this particular instance, but it’s not like Finn to go off for the night and not call to let her know. 

“Nice work.” Her _bed fellow_ is looking at a portrait of Finn, pinned above the dresser among a myriad of photos and other memorabilia - a lanyard from a festival, ticket stubs from a show and the like - that Rey had drawn, nothing but pencil, his face caught in the candid motion of a wide smile. It’s some of her earlier art, not what she would call her best, but Finn refuses to take it down. 

“Are you done?” Rey knows she’s being rude, more so than the occasion calls for, but he hardly seems perturbed as he makes his way to the door.

“Quite,” he replies mildly, and then looks at her over his shoulder, down his large nose - aristocratic, perhaps, she thinks, a defining feature of his long face other than his ears which stick out slightly when his hair is pushed back - and then he gestures to her person with a lazy wave of his (also large) hand. “We did not use a condom,” he informs her, tone indifferent, “in case you forgot, and need to do anything about it.” 

Rey, absolutely _indignant_ with rage, almost flies off the bed in her desire to _beat him_ , and sputters, “of course I remember you _arse_ -” but he’s already out the door and closing it behind him with a resolute _click_. Rey, gobsmacked, opens and closes her mouth in the perfect imitation of a codfish before screaming into her pillow. 

***

She is barely ten minutes late for her shift, it is nothing, it is infinitesimal, it is the barest of movements of the coffee shop’s clock’s misshapen hands, but it is still _late_ , according to Kaydel. She tells Rey this, repeats it, even, in military grade tones as Rey nods in what she hopes looks like acquiescence and tosses her apron over her head haphazardly. 

Kaydel trails behind her as Rey makes her way onto the floor, hands working to tie her apron at the back, to where Poe (who is pouring steamed milk artfully into an espresso and not trying _at all_ to hide his shit-eating grin) tilts his head in her direction in greeting. Kaydel continues going on about efficiency and regiments and other words that Rey cares little for, especially this early in the morning. She eyes the takeaway cup that Poe hands over the counter with eagle eyed precision. 

“- and I won’t continue to tolerate tardiness, am I clear?” 

Rey realises belatedly that Kaydel is asking her a question. “Of course,” she says, feigning contrition and slinking towards the counter in what she hopes will read as defeat. She catches Poe’s eye and he grins wider. She sticks her tongue out at him.

“I don’t know why I bother,” mutters Kaydel, running a hand over her forehead. (Most of the time, Rey doesn’t know why she bothers either.) “I have things to do this morning,” continues Kaydel, “I’m meeting with some investors; now that Leia’s passed away I’m not sure where the business stands.” She eyeballs them both with thinly veiled scrutiny. “I’m sure you two can handle it before Rose arrives. She shouldn’t be long.” 

Rey whips her head up, eyebrow knitting together. “Where’s Rose?” 

Kaydel raises an eyebrow at her and looks pointedly around the shop floor. Other than two students lingering at the pick up station, and Poe working his magic with a latte, the shop is quite clearly devoid of Rose. “Not here,” she says, as if it should be obvious. Rey bites her tongue and fiddles with her apron, common sense prevailing that it’s not worth riling Kaydel up about something else this morning. (The passing of the Resistance’s owner and founder, Leia Organa, has hit everyone hard; Rey included. She’d felt closer to the woman than she had to any of her foster parents, but Kaydel, who has known her most of her life, is particularly devastated; also, from a work perspective, it’s _a lot_ to handle.) “New roster for the month is out the back,” she says as she strides toward the old, faded front doors. “And don’t forget, only _one_ free coffee each hour - you hear me Dameron?” she tosses over her shoulder, and then she’s gone; blonde, braided hair bobbing down the street until she’s out of sight.

Rey waits until Poe has handed the students their coffee and they’ve left before rounding on him. “You are a traitor. A dirty, filthy traitor -” 

“Don’t start talking to me about _dirty_ ,” cuts in Poe, and Rey’s spine tingles at the smugness of his words. “I distinctly remember you climbing some dude the color of _milk_ in the corner of Maz’s last night like a _tree_.” 

Rey sticks her nose in the air. “I’ll have you know that whatever climbing I may be doing is my business, not yours.” 

“Then maybe,” Poe suggests sweetly, “you should do it in private, then.” 

Rey searches her brain for the second time that morning for an appropriate insult. Once again, she is let down. “You are insufferable,” is what she manages, and kicks him (not too hard) in the back of the knee for good measure, delighting in his strangled cry as his leg buckles. 

“Cheat,” he mutters darkly, but before he can say anything more, the door opens with a faint chime and a chill winter's breeze. Rey pastes on a welcoming smile, reminding herself that she’s here to actually _work_ , but it's not a proper customer; it’s Finn. Her smile turns fond but accusatory.

“Where were you this morning?” she queries, eyebrows raised. 

“Good morning to you too, peanut,” grins Finn, oblivious to her snippy tone. He leans over the counter and presses a quick, warm lipped kiss to her cheek that Rey begrudgingly accepts.

“I mean,” she adds, momentarily contrite at Finn’s kindness and his ability to ignore her demands, “I’m glad you’re alive.”

It feels like a cruel conspiracy that Finn is never penciled in for the seven to twelve shifts. Which in turns allows him to be happy and content this early in the morning, because he isn’t trapped into _hard labor._ Rey, on the other hand, has _two_ morning shifts a week; one is even on a Friday, which, quite frankly, is a sin. 

“Hazelnut latte?” Poe asks, more out of habit than actual questioning. 

Finn nods and pulls out his wallet. “Thanks, man.” 

Poe frowns. "No way dude, you’re one of us, don’t be stupid.”

Rey rolls her eyes fondly as they go through their customary routine of whether or not Finn will pay for his coffee, which he won’t, because he _is_ staff, and The Resistance is, above all things, fair (if not overly profitable). _The Resistance_ is the name hand-painted on the frosted glass doors in thick curlicues of deep, dark blue they are almost black; peppered with hazy, white stars. (“Get it, like the Galaxy,” Finn had enthused when they’d dropped their job applications off, “because the coffee is _out of this world_.”)

Home to, admittedly, exceptionally good espresso, in handy proximity to the college campus, (“with the additional bonus of attractive working staff” adds Poe whenever he can, usually accompanied by an exaggerated wink) and with decent background music and fair pricing; The Resistance is well known in the neighbourhood. They’re also Fair Trade, and have the _best_ cinnamon rolls this side of town; Rey will fight anyone who says otherwise. 

Rey’s personal obsession, however, is the ceiling. A myriad of stars and purple-blue swirls, a planet creeping in on the far corner, the ceiling of _The Resistance_ is a tribute to the galaxy above, and Rey loves it. She is on a scholarship for bio-chem, but her own secret pleasure is art and Rey knows that whoever painted their ceiling is _talented._

“So where were you?” She presses, once Poe and Finn have finished their song and dance, and Finn has dropped the four-fifty Poe refuses to charge him in the little glass jar titled _TIPS_ , the likes of which is mainly empty, save for a few coins and some lonely dollar notes. Rey taps her foot, impatient, because she’s never been one to let things go, and although she’s thankful Finn wasn’t there this morning to be an eyewitness to the absolute shambles of her hook-up, she’s still _curious_. 

Finn, however, has mastered the art of conversational deflection, and while Poe pops the lid onto his latte he says, innocently, “That wasn’t Zorii you were making out with last night, was it?”

Poe appears stricken by the question and Rey, momentarily blindsided by this sweet gift of information, turns gleefully on him instead of Finn. “You didn’t,” she teases, thrilled by the way Poe’s eyes roll back into his head in exasperation at the mention of his former college fling.

“We’re friends,” he drawls, “perhaps you both should try making some one day.” 

“I have friends,” counters Finn jovially, “I just don’t stick my tongue down their throats on a _student_ night at Maz’s, after consuming an ungodly amount of half priced house beer.” He regards Poe approvingly. “I’m impressed you’re still standing.” 

Poe shrugs. “Years of experience, kid.” 

“Yeah,” snorts Rey, “a _lot_ of years if those grey hairs are anything to go by.” She reaches up with a grin, scratching at his temples teasingly until Poe bats her away. 

“I’m aging with _grace_ ,” he mutters, fixing his hair, “and early; no thanks to you two.” 

***

Rose arrives forty five minutes later. It hasn’t been a bad morning - the clientele steady and the banter solid as their regulars come and go - so Rose hasn’t been missed in the form of a _professional_ capacity. She has been missed, however, in the _friends_ capacity. 

“Where have _you_ been?” Rey asks once Rose has put her things away and fetched her apron. Poe is also waiting expectantly, leaning back against the counter as he sips on his third coffee of the day. 

“My sister’s car broke down and she had a meeting with the opposing solicitors of her new case this morning,” Rose explains. “I said I’d drive her.” He brow furrows. “I did text Kaydel.” 

“We know,” Poe says, sipping his americano. “We’re just nosy.” 

“I should have known better.” Rose looks around the cafe, her expression artfully crafted into something of innocent query. “Has Finn been in this morning?” Her tone, perfectly nonchalant, makes Rey turn quickly with a suspicious stare. 

“Yeah, you just missed him. Soy macchiato?” Poe asks, purely perfunctory as Rose always drinks the same thing. Rey doesn’t even know why he bothers asking anymore. 

“What’s Paige's case?” Rey asks while Poe starts fixing Rose’s coffee. (Rose’s older sister, Paige, is a solicitor for a local, family owned firm. Three years out of grad school and she’s doing well for herself in terms of reputation, not that the pay is particularly high. Rey has asked before why Paige doesn’t move to a wealthier firm, but the other girl always smiles and shrugs. “I like standing up for the little guy.”) 

“I don’t know,” admits Rose. “She wouldn’t tell me. She did mention something like ownership rights and some kind of mega corp.” She scrunches her nose up in thought. 

“Riveting,” drawls Poe teasingly. He slides her coffee over to her with a grin. “You really know how to tell a story, Tico.” Rose elbows him in the side and he laughs. 

***

Rey is feeling perkier when she leaves her shift, but then she’s subjected to a full fifty minutes in her biochem lab, where she has zero interest in kinetic curves, and the perkiness promptly dissolves. Usually, she is all in for a lab, but today she’s tired and the curves just aren’t doing it for.

That’s followed by a riveting lecture for her anthro class where they’re about to start an independent study: Understanding The Global Ecological Crisis, of which her professor, Yoda, is _far_ too excited about for the end of the day ( _A_ _merica_ , thinks Rey, _Is Fucked,_ would be a great title for it) so she records the lecture on her phone in case she needs to remember something important later, and takes to doodling on her notepad. 

What starts out as idle floral and sketchy lines to pass the time soon starts to take shape, and by the time the class is over and the students are filing out the door, her notepad page is filled with an array of facial composites; all of which bear one strikingly familiar resemblance - a large nose. 

Her chest tight, Rey rips the paper from her notebook and crunches it into a ball, tossing it into the bin on her way out of the class. 

***

Finn is waiting for her when she gets home. 

“It smells like sex,” he informs her accusingly. He opens a window and makes a dramatic fanning motion with his hands. Rey rolls her eyes and drops her bag on the floor, walking over to her bed to flop face down on it. “Filthy,” continues Finn, following behind her and picking up her bag to hang it on its hook on the closet door, “dirty sex.” He laughs, launching himself onto the bed beside her and tickling her ribs. She squirms and curls into a ball defensively. “Was it good at least?” he probes, sitting back by her feet. 

Rey grunts. “Define _good_.” She is accosted, unfairly, by her own memories; a hand on the bank of her neck, fingers curling around her throat as she’s taken from behind, _such a good girl_ being murmured into the air above her, her hips pushing back for _more more more_. 

Her face reddens, and in a mimicry of this morning’s same position, she remains face down in her pillow so that Finn can not see her shame - or arousal. 

“So good... you left the club early, I gave you a two hour window and when I came back you were still going, so I left again?” suggest Finns in a wily tone.

Rey whirls around, mouth open. “You didn’t!” 

He nods sagely. “The whole dorm could hear the two of you.” Then, to ease her mortification, he adds, “not that there were many people around. It was like, one in the morning.” 

Rey sits up and hugs her pillow to her chest. “Where did you sleep, then?” she asks, eyes narrowing. 

“On a park bench.” Finn waves his hand dismissively and barrels on. “So he was definitely worth it?” He waggles his eyebrows in an attempt to make her laugh, and Rey, predictably, does. 

“Stop,” she grins, and shoves the pillow at him. “Yes, it was good, okay?” she admits begrudgingly. “I’ve never seen him at Maz’s before, and he didn’t seem like he was just looking to pull.” Finn snorts at her vernacular . “Lay off,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “He was all tall and broody -” 

“- the color of a milk, according to Poe.” 

“Yes, he was pale,” agrees Rey stiffly. “But not in like a, _I’ve never the sun kind of way_. More just like, that’s just the color of his skin.” She shrugs. “It suited him, dark eyes, dark hair.” She gestures to her face. “He had spots, small moles…” she trails off, voice quiet, “like constellations.” 

Finn is regarding her curiously. “You sure this was just a one night stand?” 

Rey snorts. “Absolutely, great shag or not, he was an absolute arse the next morning. Honestly, you wouldn’t believe it, he stayed the whole night, told me we didn’t use a condom - which I already _knew because_ I was the one who brought _him_ back - and said ‘In case I wanted to do something about it!’” she fumes. “And,” she stresses, pointing angrily at her bedside table, “he touched my _clock_.” 

Finn opens his eyes wide. “Not the clock.” 

“Yes.” Rey nods vehemently. “The clock.” 

“Whatever will you do?”

Rey looks back at him flatly. “Hilarious. You know I don’t like people touching my things.” 

“I know,” Finn acquiesces, patting her knee. “I’m just teasing.” 

Rey is too close to Finn to feel uncomfortable with his teasing, they’re roommates; they’re childhood friends; they’re practically blood bonded at this point. There probably isn’t one secret that they have ever kept from one another; like her, he has grown up in the system, foster home to foster home. Whereas Finn cares little for physical things and possessions, Rey cares deeply; a strange obsession born from years of having nothing to finally having _something_ of her own - be it a shitty, plastic clock. She admits, begrudgingly, that it isn't fair for a one-night-stand to know these things about her the way her best friend does. 

Rey picks at lint on her pants. "I might have been a bit of an arse, too." 

***

They stay up, talking and going over their notes for their poli-sci class tomorrow morning, Finn’s laptop playing _The Weakerthans_ in easy, dulcet tones in the background. 

At ten, Rey pleads exhaustion, the words from her notes melting together and sliding off the page. She kicks off her pants and crawls into bed, too lazy to remove her socks, and curls up on her side facing the wall. She can hear Finn on the other side of the room; his pen tapping idly against his knee in time to whatever song is crooning through his earphones. 

Rey burrows deeper into her blankets and remembers that she hasn’t changed the sheets. Finn was right; they do smell like sex, a strange mix of herself and the other guy, and before she can think too much on why this doesn’t bother as much as it should, she falls asleep. 

***

Friday comes quicker than Rey expects, her thoughts filled mostly by her anthro study plans and her visceral distaste for poli-sci. Her shift at the shop is almost halfway over and the early morning rush has been and gone. She makes herself useful by tidying up the hodge-podge of multi colored couches and armchairs on the left side of the room in front of the makeshift stage. (Sunday evening is open-mic night; a smattering of the regulars taking up space to listen to the likes of angsty slam-poetry and the occasional acoustic guitar from their peers at the college). The wall behind it is plastered with posters, most of them faded and worn, taped over the top of a monochrome geometric pattern.

Rey is pressing down a fly away corner of a _The Mowgli’s_ cover art poster when Poe bursts through the front door, clapping his hands together and asking, loudly, “Have you missed me?” 

“Surely your life consists of more than this,” mocks Rey, never one to forgo a chance of mockery at Poe’s expense. “What does your schedule look like, coffee-shop, coffee-shop, jerking off, coffee-shop?” she grins, rueful and wild. 

"So much _sass_ for such a small person," comments Poe with a teasing scowl, and then he darts forward and gives chase. They play cat-and-mouse around the furniture, Rose yelling aggressively in support of Rey from behind the counter; ‘kick him in the shins!’ Finn videos their shenanigans for whichever social media is his flavor of the month. 

Kaydel isn’t around to mediate, because on Friday she has the day off while the three of them have the coffeehouse to themselves until the afternoon shift, when Jessika and Tallie take over. 

Poe surrenders after a few moments, palms held up. “Outwitted again,” he concedes, catching his breath. 

Rey wiggles behind an armchair, her smile teasing and her eyes bright. “Is that the best you’ve got, old man?” 

“You’re too good for me,” he says, appearing for all intents and purposes defeated, before hollering and lunging at her again. Rey shrieks and jumps over the couch. She snatches up a spoon from the serving station and brandishes it like a weapon, egging Poe on with jabs at his greying hair and the shoes he’s wearing. (“Trying to keep up with the youth, are we?” she taunts, spoon pointed at his feet in their freshly clean Vans.)

She allows him to catch her eventually, because she is benevolent and kind like that. Poe, deeming her surrender as insufficient, picks her up and swings her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Rey is laughing, tears streaming down her cheeks as she smacks on his back with her fists. Rose circles around the serving space and Rey tosses her the spoon, their alliance forming wordlessly as Rose takes jabs at Poe’s open ribcage. Finn is leaning bodily over the counter, running commentary for his video gleefully.

The bell above the door chimes. Poe, Rey and Rose freeze _en tableau;_ Rose still holding the teaspoon, Poe hunched over with Rey half perched across his back, one of her hands covering his face in an effort to blind him, the other clutching his shirt to keep from falling. 

Slowly, and with as much elegance as she can muster, Rey slides from Poe’s back and turns around, straightening out her apron with her best customer-service smile. 

"Erm," she says, instead of _'hello, what can I get you?’_ She swallows and tries again. This time, she says, “fuck.” 

“And here I thought this was a professional establishment,” Rey’s hook-up from earlier in the week drawls in his deep, whiskey voice. 

He's wearing a charcoal waistcoat with a matching suit jacket and trousers, and a crisp white button-up shirt and a wine-red burgundy tie. The clothes are perfectly tailored ( _bespoke_ offers up Rey’s treacherous brain, while it frantically tries to rein in her increasing libido), to emphasize his broad shoulders and long legs. His hair, that Rey remembers as cow-licked and messy from their morning after, is now artfully styled and curling at his collar. He looks remarkably over-dressed for The Resistance, but also relatively normal, a sleek laptop bag over his shoulder, normal and both nothing and exactly like how he looks naked. He doesn’t, however, look to be anywhere near as awkward as Rey feels. 

She smoothes her apron again self-consciously while her brain short-circuits. Rose jabs her in the ribs with the spoon. “Ouch.” Rey swats her away, her awkward spell broken, and turns back to her pick-up. “What do you want?” she demands, and cringes at her own attitude.

“Coffee,” he snaps, rudeness not uncalled for in response to Rey’s own accusatory tone. He sneers at her, eyes darting around the coffee shop before landing back on Poe and narrowing. “Unless, of course, you’re otherwise indisposed.” 

“Just say _busy_ like a normal person.” Rey rolls her eyes and storms past him, grabbing Rose by the wrist and pulling bodily along behind the counter. 

He eyes them all sharply, reminiscent of a predatory choosing it's next meal. Finn stands up straight and slips his phone into his back pocket, and Poe slinks down into one of the armchairs like that has been his intent all along. 

His dark eyes zero in on Poe's movement and he fixes him with a stare. “Were you not planning to order anything?” He pauses, mouth twitching. “Or do you just come here to man-handle the staff?”

“Just to man-handle,” replies Poe nonchalantly. He offers no information whatsoever as to the fact he too is staff. He rests his ankle on the opposite knee and pulls out his phone, gesturing to the counter. “You go for it; you look like you could do with a drink.” He grins, eyes flitting to the tense pull of the other man’s brows. Poe ignores the scowl tossed in his direction and busies himself with his phone. 

Rey stands behind the counter, fingers tapping on the top nervously as he stops glaring at Poe and strides toward her. Christ, his legs are _really_ long. “What can I get you?” 

His eyes don’t even flit to the chalkboard menu on the wall behind them. “Espresso, _doppio_ ; to go.” 

Rey is worldly enough to know that means _double_ , so if he is trying to catch her out he’s failed. “That’ll be three twenty-five,” she says, and he taps a sleek, black card to the pay terminal. “And what was your name?” she asks sweetly, marker poised above his takeaway cup. 

For the first time since he walked in his sour expression falters. Rey glimpses the vulnerability in his face that he had shown her, briefly, during their tryst earlier in the week. (“So good, yes, please, God,” she is shaking, back arching off the mattress, her fingers carding through his dark hair while his face is buried between her legs, his tongue licking a long, smooth line up her cunt. “Please,” she begs, uninhibited as she chases the pleasure of her orgasm. He swirls his tongue over her clit, his mouth sucking at her folds. He glances up at her, gaze confident but enquiring, eager to determine her pleasure, and it sends her over the edge. “Yes, perfect, yes,” she’s saying on repeat, hips straining and legs shaking as he licks her through her release; his eyes never leaving her face.) 

She feels mean for asking, even if he is (and has been) an arse, but she _genuinely_ can’t remember his name. “Ken,” she tries, quietly, to guess as an apology. “Krist-” she trails off, feeling worse (she knows it starts with a K). She looks at him wordlessly for help. 

He blinks, and the vulnerability is gone. “Ky-” he starts, and Rey thinks _yes,_ because she knew she was close, but then he clears his throat. “Ben,” he says softly, “my name is Ben.” 

Rey shoots him a quizzical glance but writes _BEN_ on the cup, handing it down to Finn. Ben and Finn survey each other for a moment. Finn nods at him, and Ben nods back, before the other man starts making his espresso. 

She shifts on her feet awkwardly while Ben waits at the counter. He looks down at her. “I was unaware that you worked here,” he says quietly, in a voice that has gone lower and deeper still, the words meant for her alone. She glances over at Rose who is lingering on the outskirts of their conversation, trying to appear busy cleaning mugs and _failing_.

“Well,” hedges Rey, “it’s not like we were talking about that sort of stuff.” 

“No,” he muses, his eyes flitting down her body. “We were not.” Rey is so incredibly thankful that he can’t quite see her lower half from behind the counter because she is shifting her thighs together minutely in an attempt to succumb to her peaking arousal. While she does this, he is surveying the interior of the Resistance, eyebrow rising slightly at the makeshift stage and mismatched furniture. 

“This place certainly is… eclectic.” Ben chooses the word carefully, as if it isn’t quite the one he _really_ wants to use. 

“The ceiling is beautiful,” Rey blurts out, in defense of the shop and his scrutinizing gaze. 

“Is it?” Ben glances up, and Rey is disappointed when he hardly bats an eye at the swooping swirls of a black hole and the painstakingly measured rings of Saturn. When he looks back at her, she thinks there’s something curious in his gaze.

“Espresso,” calls Finn, unnecessarily loud, from the pick up station. “ _Doppio_ ,” he adds, when Ben collects it from the stand. 

“Thank you,” says Ben, smoothly, ignoring Finn’s teasing grin. He flicks his wrist, checking the time on an expensive looking watch before including his head to them all. As he strides toward the door he passes Poe. “Please,” he says, with mock sincerity, “continue your man-handling of young women.”

Before Poe can respond he pulls open the door and exits the shop, bell chiming behind him as his long legs carry him out of view. Rey ignores Poe’s indignant sputtering, too busy worrying her lower lip between her teeth and trying to figure out why it bothers her so much that he didn’t look back at her, not once.

***

"Hardly know him," Rey says once Ben is out of sight and the shop has gone quiet, before anyone has time to say anything. "Met him once."

"That's funny," Finn says. "Because he looked just like the guy I found leaving our dorm building on Tuesday morning."

"Maybe he's a student," Rey says hopefully, arms open in suggestion. “College is open to anyone, you know, it’s not ageist.” Rose and Finn don't even bother to respond to that; they just trade weary looks. Rey bristles defensively and then glares accusingly at Finn. "I never even saw you that morning, and he left before I did!"

“We must have just missed each other," says Finn, evasively. He flutters his eyelashes at her sweetly. 

Poe is also taking this moment to eye her smugly. “He did look remarkably like the milk-carton you were so thirsty for the other night.”

"I think I know him," Rose says thoughtfully, her eyes narrowed as she tries to remember. “I just don’t know where from.”

"No," Rey says. "No, you don't."


	2. Chapter 2

Friday night mean’s Maz’s, because it’s been a hell of a long week. Plus, the beer is cheap, even if it isn’t student night. There’s usually have a live band at nine, too. 

Rey goes home after her art class and stands in the shower for ten minutes, trying to wash the embarrassment away from her encounter with Ben earlier in the day. She wonders, vaguely, as she dries her hair and puts on mascara, if he will be there tonight. He had been a surprising addition to the usual crowd on Monday evening, and she thinks that maybe that was why she was drawn to him. She’d like to think it was more than her just unbridled attraction that controlled her actions. 

Finn sings loudly in the shower while Rey chooses what she wears carefully. Not because of Ben – she has never seen him there before that one night and it would be silly to assume he’ll be there tonight– but just – because. She selects a pair of her skinniest jeans, and a thinly-strappy white crop top without even pausing to consider a bra. Small tits; big upside.

Finn emerges from the bathroom moments later, steam pouring out from the door behind him and a towel around his waist. “Nice,” he comments, hip-tapping Rey as he grabs his own clothes on the way by. “Bring a jacket or you’ll freeze outside.” Rey holds up an over sized woolen cardigan with a smug look. “Always one step ahead of me,” he muses, returning back to the bathroom. 

They walk to Poe’s loft, where he’s already three beers in and is entertaining Rose with air-guitar theatrics in time to _Queen_. They drink a little, pilfering from Poe’s stash of spirits in the kitchen cupboard, until they’re warm and loose-limbed. 

Rose thumbs through her phone for an Uber, and they pile in when it comes, Rey in the middle of the backseat, between Finn and Rose (“you are the smallest,” declares Rose, as if they don’t go through this every time, “the smallest _has_ to go in the middle.”) while Poe sits shotgun and tries unsuccessfully to commandeer the bluetooth off the driver to play his music.

The drive isn’t more than fifteen minutes, and when they arrive at the bar, _Castle_ (although Rey hasn’t called it that since her freshman year, so used to the familiarity of the owner, Maz, like most of the patrons that frequent the place) is tucked down a brick cul-de-sac with an unassuming doorway that already has a handful of people waiting to be carded. 

Once they’re inside and have checked their coats, Finn and Poe head straight for the bar, while Rey declines Rose’s invitation to the bathroom. The toilet is small enough as is, crowded with girls chatting while they check makeup or fix hair, and Rey isn’t in the mood to fight for a spot on the linoleum floor just to wait for Rose to pee in the one stall with no working lock. She tells herself this, at least, while she sulks through the dance floor, to tamp down the other voice in her brain that says _you just want to find Ben_. 

“Rey,” purrs a voice, dry and throaty so close to her ear. “ _S_ _cavenging_ around, like usual.” 

“Hux,” Rey says, by way of greeting. "How many tubs of hair gel have we used tonight, three or four?”

Ryan wouldn’t go as far as to say she _likes_ Armitage Hux; she tolerates him, in a sharp and brittle sort of way, with his sallow cheeks and slicked back orange hair. She has had to; Hux is a member of her poli-sci course, and he most commonly plays the opposition when they're debating. Friends would be too far-fetched; they sit on far too opposite of a political scale to have a civil conversation that lasts longer than eight minutes and Rey constantly reserves the right to ignore his entire existence when he’s leading some kind of super far-right campaign on campus. He can be entertaining, in small doses.

“Would you look at that,” he muses at someone in the crowd. “Any more eyeliner and her eyes might as well seal shut.” 

“How do you remain single when you’re so kind?” Rey deadpans. 

“I don’t know,” laments Hux, even as he eagerly scans the crowd for another walking disaster to mock. “I’m a catch, really.” He brightens as he spots another victim. “He must have been blind when he got dressed.” 

The next thing she knows Phasma has appeared, and Rey thinks _eh, time to leave_. While she can tolerate Hux, she isn’t at all fond of the broad-shouldered blonde woman that runs the local Starbucks up the street. (The Starbucks up the street is, and always will be, the enemy. Rey would be a liar if she says she’s never graced the green doors of a ‘bucks, but after Phasma and her team opened up the one not fifteen minutes from the Resistance, Rey has seen the first-hand damage mega-corps can do to small, locally owned businesses, and it _sucks_.

Not only that, Phasma and Finn have bad blood; if Rey thought she had been mad when the Starbucks opened and Phasma became the new manager, it was nothing compared to Finn. Finn had worked for Phasma previously, and he had not held back in his acrid, scathing description of the woman when they’d asked about it in the shop.)

“Rey.” Phasma addresses her coolly. “How’s business on your end?” Her brow arches. “I’m surprised that place hasn’t been _demolished_ yet to make way for a business that actually makes _profit_.”

It’s no secret that a) The Resistance is in a prime real estate spot, on the main road right by the college campus, not five minutes from a major shopping complex and b) even with the foot traffic, it’s rare they sit in the green financially. Rey has secretly theorized that Phasma has been trying to have the Resistance replaced by Starbucks. 

“Phasma,” Rey returns, her teeth grating through a fake smile. “How are things running the slave factory; make any staff cry recently?”

“Look at you both,” coos Hux, sickeningly sweet. “Playing so nice today.” He turns to Phasma because be can't help himself. “I’m surprised you’re out tonight; no one tied up in your basement to torture at home?” 

“Not everyone shares your kinks, Hux,” Phasma says sharply. 

Hux sulks for a moment, bested, before starting up his usual routine of mocking strangers. Rey spends five or so minutes listening to Hux pick apart the clientele, her interest mostly on new people walking through the doors, not that she’s looking for someone of course. Phasma lingers on the outskirts, as socially awkward as ever and making little in the way of an effort to _smile._

Hux is in the middle of a scathing attack on someone’s root color when he sees Rose making their way towards them. “Speaking of, is your little friend still single then?” he purrs, and Rey rolls her eyes. 

“Yes, but she doesn’t date vampires, sorry.” She pats him on the shoulder, ignoring his haughty, offended glare. “I’ll see you later, Hux.” She doesn't bother to grace Phasma with any pleasantries.

She merges into the crowd, meeting Rose and grasping her around the wrist. Snap Wexley, a local who graduated a number of years ago, is in the DJ booth. He spins a decent set, a lively opener for whatever band Maz has lined up for the evening. Rey allows Rose to pull her into a half hearted dance in front of the DJ booth, Snap smiling and giving them a thumbs’ up when he sees them. It doesn't take long for Rey to start enjoying herself, hip-checking Rose as they shimmy and sway to Snap's mixes.

Finn finds them six or seven songs in and they follow him back to a corner of the bar where Poe has procured a table, and is hovering over it -and four bottles of beer - protectively. They sit down, Rey with her back mostly to the crowd, and swallows half her bottle with greedy ease, eyes still roaming the dancefloor. She spots someone - tall with dark hair- but she can’t be sure. Also she’s not like, _looking._

“I haven’t seen him,” says Finn loudly over the din. 

“Who?” asks Rey blithely, feigning confusion. She takes another swig of her beer.

Rose laughs and knocks their beers together. “You’re the opposite of subtle. I thought you told Finn he was an asshole?” 

“I did.” Rey looks between Finn and Rose. “What else did Finn say?” she asks curiously, eyes narrowed. 

“Finn said that you told him the guy was an asshole,” Finn says. “And that he didn’t think it mattered because you had the hots for him anyway.”

“Finn needs to stop talking about himself in third person,” grumbles Poe. He leans across to Rey. “He’s clearly got eyes for you too. Why didn’t you ask him out?” 

Rey is slightly blindsided and embarrassed that they’ve talked about this. “He does not have eyes for me,” she says heatedly. “He was a right prick the morning after and a prick this morning at the shop-” 

“Rey, you weren't exactly a walk in the park,” interrupts Rose, plaintively. Her eyes flicker from Rey to the crowd behind her, “surely-” 

“No,” snaps Rey, heatedly, and knows she’s probably shouting but the music is loud and her cheeks are going red and she _hates_ being embarrassed. “Listen, while I might have slept with him, I don’t make it a habit to date arseholes, and from the looks of things, he’s a pretty big one.” She sits back in her chair, chest heaving, and glares at them.

From behind her shoulder, someone says in a voice that’s low and whiskey-shot, “Then I suppose, this asshole will be leaving.” 

Rey feels dread creep up her spine, and it’s mirrored in the faces of her friends as they glance sheepishly at the table and avoid her gaze. She turns to Rose, desperate, but Rose does nothing but bite her lip and examine her beer bottle a clear _I tried_ reading in her grimace. Rey turns in her seat to see Ben walking away from their table, shouldering past people in the crowd in his haste to get away from her. 

“Shit.” She jumps to her feet, knocking over her beer. “Ben!” she calls over the heads of people, “Ben, wait!” 

The band starts up in that moment, heavy bass thrumming through the air and everyone surges forward closer to the band, clapping and cheering as music starts to play. Rey spots him, almost out the door, and she shoves rudely past a couple of students she recognises from her anthro class, apologising hastily as she slips around sweaty bodies. 

She follows him out the front door and into the side street, latching on to his arm quickly. “Ben,” she says imploringly. He stops moving and she takes a moment to catch her breath, the cold air turning it into white puffs before it dissipates. “I’m sorry,” she says when she looks up again. 

He is watching her silently, his lips pursed and his jaw tense, his arm still in her grasp. “Unhand me,” he requests, quietly. 

Rey begrudgingly uncurls her fingers from the material of his sleeve. He’s dressed more casually than he was this morning, in fitted black jeans and a turtleneck, but he looks no less appealing than he did in his three-piece suit, or for that matter, when he was naked in her bed. 

“I’m sorry,” she tries again. “I genuinely didn’t think you were interested in me - “ 

“Would it matter?” he asks flatly. “I am, after all, a _pretty big asshole_.” 

Rey bristles. “Look, you have been a bit of an arse, don’t you think?” She doesn’t think it’s unfair to at least try and mediate. 

He quirks a brow at her. “If I recall, you kicked me out of your room, and were behaving to a less than professional standard at your workplace.” 

“No, you know what, you’re right, it’s all me.” She steps back, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You’ve been an absolute delight on both encounters.” It’s freezing, and she’s even more embarrassed than she was before. “Whatever, Ben.” She turns her back on him and walks back inside. 

***

Rey spends most of the weekend sulking; she shows up for her Sunday shift but leaves as soon as it’s over. Normally she would stay for Open Mic Night, or at least, come back to see some of it, but not today. 

She also declines the invitation to go to Maz’s on student night on Monday, too mortified from her last two experiences to even think about stepping foot in the bar for at least another week or so. Finn brings her takeout when he gets home, and a soy latte, and Rey eats her noodles gratefully while he sits beside her and plays Halo for an hour in a companionable silence. 

Her sheets have definitely been changed, all traces of sex and Ben washed away. Rey goes to sleep thinking about how different her night is compared to last Monday, when she’d had Ben’s warm, broad chest pressed up against her back, and his arm circled around her waist. 

***

Her Tuesday, as far as Tuesday’s go, is pretty good. She’s been a machine at work, pumping out coffees in record time, that even Kaydel is impressed. “Good job,” she praises, nodding approvingly as Rey puts the lids on an order of four and fits them into a carry tray. Poe is also surprised and he tries, a number of times to bait her into a play fight, but she is on point today and cannot be distracted. She is the _height_ of professionalism.

Poe is on his fifth attempt of the morning - “did they brainwash you, micro chip you, what has Kaydel _done_ to you?” - when Rey gets the barest flicker of a warning out of the corner of her eye. Dark hair, tall of stature, and she does the first thing she can think of; which is dropping to the ground behind the counter and not moving a muscle. 

“Hi,” says Poe, the traitor, enthusiastically. “Ben, right? How’s it going?” 

“Well, thank you,” his deep voice carries over the counter. It (infuriatingly) still sends shivers down her spine as she thinks about whether or not she can crawl away without being noticed.

“What can I get you?” Poe asks sweetly. 

“Espresso, _doppio_.” Ben pauses, and Rey squeezes her eyes shut. “Is Rey working today by any chance?” 

Rey inhales sharply, because she hasn’t heard him say her name since they had sex. (“Are you going to come for me?” he asks, voice like gravel as he fucks her, her leg pushed back against his chest. He has one hand on her clit, the pads of his large fingers rolling over it in a mind numbing rhythm. “Are you, Rey?” She whimpers, pulling him down with her hand on his neck to kiss him. “Are you coming to come on my cock, Rey?” he murmurs against her lips.) 

“Yes,” Poe says brightly. Rey hangs her head in defeat. “She’s hiding behind the counter.” 

What a fucking _traitor._

“Is she?” Ben sounds curious, if not a little bit disappointed, at this admission. 

Rey gets to her feet, slowly, making sure to grind her heel hard on Poe’s foot as she pretends to lean against the counter. “Hi,” she says, as nicely as she can manage through the depths of her humiliation and Poe’s twitching cringe of pain. Ben is looking at her expectantly. “I, uhm,” she glances at him, to the ground, and back again. “I dropped something,” she says quickly, trying to appear as convincing as possible. 

“Oh?” asks Poe, before Ben can say anything. “What did you drop?” He looks at Rey’s empty hands that are clenched on the counter top. Ben looks too. They both look back at her. 

Rey turns to Poe, fixing him with a stare that _promises_ destruction. “A marker,” she bites out tightly, “can you please make Ben’s coffee?” 

Poe smiles smugly and leans between them, picking up a takeaway cup and twirling it in his hand. “Be right up.”

Rey manages to spit out a thank you before turning back to Ben. His gaze is still riveted on her although his expression remains unreadable. He's in a dark blue suit today, the matching jacket slung over his arm with a white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. He has his laptop bag over his shoulder again. She wonders if he works nearby. He looks, for lack of a better word, delectable, and Rey is accosted by filthy, impure thoughts. 

“Hi,” she says again, and then realises how stupid she sounds and shuts her mouth. 

Ben, however, seems placated by her unease. “Hello.” He steps closer to the counter, large hand splaying over it as he leans forward. “I wanted to apologise,” he says, softly, in that same deep, lower register he had used before when he wanted to speak solely to her. Rey’s throat tightens. “I know it isn’t professional of me to do so at your place of work,” he continues, “but it seemed like a better option than showing up unannounced to your home.”

“You’re right,” agrees Rey, “that would look creepy.” She shifts her weight from foot to foot. “I’m sorry, too,” she says, finally. “About what happened on Friday.” She smiles, a little teasingly, “you’re an arsehole, but not the _biggest_ arsehole.” 

Ben feigns surprise. “What do I have to do to take the number one position?” His gaze, for a fleeting moment, turns predatory. “I’ll have you know I’m not known for settling for second best.” Rey feels heat flush her whole body and she hopes her cheeks aren’t as red as she imagines them to be. Ben must realise he’s behaving slightly too forward and he takes a step back, clearing his throat. “You’re majoring in an arts capacity, are you not?” he asks, steering the conversation to something more suitable for a public place. 

Rey frowns. “No, I’m actually on a scholarship for bio-chem, I take the art class because I love it.” 

Ben appears slightly disappointed at her answer. “I’ve seen your work,” he says, quickening to explain when she narrows her eyes at him suspiciously. "Above your friend’s dresser; you’re very good, Rey.” 

She feels her chest swell from the praise, and she doesn’t miss the way Ben’s mouth quirks in acknowledgment. “Thank you,” she says with a smile. “I’m not in a position to give up my scholarship to chase a degree in something that may not pay the bills, or, you know, pay for a full education from scratch either.” She gestures up at the ceiling of the Resistance again, “if I was talented like that, who knows. I’d want to paint for life if I had that sort of skill” 

Ben follows her movement to stare up at the ceiling once more. He doesn’t look as dazzled as any of her other customers, as if the incredible art is nothing but some squiggles on paper, and Rey can’t understand it. 

“Who says the artist continued painting?” he asks, stills studying the ceiling. 

Rey snorts, a very unladylike sound, but Ben seems amused by it as he returns his gaze to her. She shrugs. “Who wouldn’t continue a career in the arts if they were that talented?” Rey tips her head back to look at the ceiling again. “I don’t even know who painted it. It’s sad, really, none of us do.” She smiles fondly. “Whoever did it clearly loved what they were doing; you don’t create something that beautiful without caring about it, first.”

At that moment, Poe slides over, Ben’s coffee in his hand. “Not to be a buzzkill, but this will go cold, eventually.” He slides it across the counter with a grin. 

“Thank you,” says Ben politely, and Poe nods. He looks back at Rey, and for the first time, smiles. Rey can’t help it; the smile is contagious, a rueful, crooked thing that brightens his whole face, and she finds herself smiling back. 

***

Ben comes in on her Thursday shift, as well. He orders the same drink, his double espresso, early in the afternoon and follows Rey to the pick up station while she makes makes it for him. 

“How long have you worked here?” 

“Mmm,” Rey glances at him over her shoulder. “Three years or so. The pay isn’t great and hardly anyone tips, but I love it.” She smiles, even though he can’t see it. “We’re like a family here; even the customers. The original owner passed away recently; we're sort of in a limbo until we see where we stand." 

Ben makes a thoughtful sound as she slides his coffee to him. “Thank you.” His face relaxes at the first sip. “I’m sure you find it hard with all the competition,” he muses. When Rey looks at him quizzically he elaborates. “The Starbucks not far from you surely impacted your clientele, and there are more and more coffee houses opening each day as the city expands.” 

He’s not wrong, but Rey believes whole-heartedly in the Resistance and what it’s doing for the people. She shuffles out from behind the counter and grabs his arm, pulling him wordlessly over to a patch of wall dotted in post it notes above the napkin/sugar station. “These are all free drinks.” Rey explains. “A customer pays it forward, we put a post-it up.” There are maybe twenty post-its all up. She looks back at Ben who is eyeing the wall curiously. “Yeah, we don’t make a lot of money,” she admits, “but doing something just because it’s _right_ is pretty cool.” 

Ben looks like contemplates this for a long moment before he nods, his dark hair falling slightly into his face. “I agree,” he says, and the admission seems to surprise them both. “It is _pretty cool_.” He rolls his tongue around the words like they are a foreign language and Rey laughs, bright and loud. They chat, idly, for the better part of five minutes until a new customer walks in and Rey realises she has had her hand on his arm the entire time. 

“Hey,” she calls out as he’s leaving. He pauses and turns to look over his shoulder at her. Rey snatches up a cinnamon roll from the cabinet and pops it in a bag, folding the top over and rushing out the front to give it to him. “On the house,” she adds, with a small smile. “They’re the best in town, I promise.” 

Ben inclines his head in thanks and pushes open the door. “I’ve heard,” he says, leaving her with another of his rare smiles. 

***

It’s no surprise to anyone when Ben shows up on Friday morning during her shift. He has a bluetooth earpiece in and he’s arguing with someone on the other end. Rey is already writing his order on a cup and handing it down to Finn before he reaches the counter, and he smiles tightly at her and taps his card against the terminal. Then, in a shocking change of routine, he retreats into one of the corners of the cafe and sits down in one of the plush chairs. 

“What is he doing?” Finn asks as they watch, bewildered, while Ben unpacks his laptop and sets it up on the little table in front of him. He leans forward on his knees, fingers moving quickly across the keyboard as he begins typing. 

Rey shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know.”

She doesn’t, honestly, he’s never come in and _sat down_ before. He almost looks out of place, in his dark three-piece suit and a navy, spotted tie. As he leans over to look at his laptop his shirt strains across his chest. Rey wants to devour him. She takes his coffee to him when Finn is finished, popping it down on a napkin beside his laptop. He acknowledges her with a flick of his eyes and a tight smile, and then, in a movement almost so subtle she hardly notices it; he moves his screen from her view. 

He underestimates for a sore moment how quick Rey is, although he doesn’t know it. Rey returns to the counter with a frown. 

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Finn asks immediately, because he’s always the first person to notice her facial expressions and understand every one of them. 

Rey bites her lip. “I don’t know, I saw a spreadsheet on his laptop...” she lowers her voice, even though Ben is still on the line to someone else and is in the far corner of the shop. “It had a bunch of numbers and things, but at the top it said _the Resistance._ ” 

Finn blinks. “Wait, like, as in this place?” 

Rey shrugs helplessly. “I think so? I can’t be sure but…” 

“But you think you are,” finishes Finn quietly.

Rey frowns, but when Ben glances up and smiles at her, she can’t help but smile back. 

***

Sunday rolls around and Rey’s shift is coming to an end; they're setting up the shop for Open Mic Night, and then Chewie strolls in. 

“Chewie!” She runs out from behind the counter and throws herself at him. With practiced ease Chewie envelopes her in a hug, lifting her off the ground and squeezing tightly. He smells lie pine and leather, a scent that has become familiar in the last few years. 

“Hey kiddo,” Chewie’s voice is rough and scratchy, a bit like his face. At well over six feet he even dwarfs Ben, who is currently one of the tallest people in her life. His hair is sandy-brown and incredibly long, tand even tied up at the base of his neck the ends reach past his shoulders. His beard is equally long. 

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” Rey says accusingly. “What have you been up to?” 

Chewie waves a large hand. “This and that.” Chewie is a truckie, and while he doesn’t pull into town often it’s always a delight to see him. Chewie had been friends with Leia and used to bring her little gifts from all of his stops around the country. Rey misses Leia, and Chewie, more often than not, but as the months have gone by the pain has eased. “I’m in town for a while before heading out, been here a week or so, stopping by to see some old friends.” The way he says it makes Rey grin.

“What kind of friends?” she asks teasingly.

Chewie wags a finger at her. “No, don’t go meddling” He looks over at Poe, “Dameron, good to see you’re still alive. Haven’t crashed that car of yours since I was here?” Poe groans and rolls his eyes while Rey laughs; Poe’s preference for fast cars is no secret to anyone that knows him.

“He hasn’t,” Rey supplies in Poe’s stony silence. “But he did hook up with Zorii Bliss the other week.” 

“Rey!” Poe clutches at his chest. “Your betrayal wounds me.” 

Rey shrugs. “An eye for an eye,” she says sweetly, in reference to his betrayal of her hiding behind the counter last week. 

Chewie hollers in delight, large hand slapping at his knee. "Can't help yourself; can you? I remember that girl ran rings around you back in college." He and Rey fall into another bout of laughter. 

Poe’s eyes flash. “Rey met someone!” he exclaims, pointing at her. “She’s dating him.”

“We are not dating,” she hisses. “Stop your lies.” She thinks of Ben, his full lower lip and the way he holds himself, like you can almost _see_ the energy crackling off his person; all the raw, volatile emotion he hides behind his carefully crafted expressions. Rey flushes as Chewie looks down at her expectantly. “He’s not -” she struggles for words. “We’re not like, dating, or anything. I met him once, twice, well he comes in a lot -” she trails off, her fingers clutching at the empty air, gesturing frantically trying to explain. 

Chewie laughs and reaches out to ruffle her hair fondly. “Young love,” he says fondly. “Enjoy it while he lasts.” 

***

“What’s up with her?” Poe asks, after Kaydel has ripped into him for not lining up the muffins in the cabinet to her liking. She shouts at him, and then at Rey who has done nothing more than walk past at the wrong time, and then she tells them she has somewhere to be and to _behave_ while she’s gone. She snatches up her things and is gone before they can even retort. 

“No idea,” Rey says honestly. “She’s been really stressed recently, probably the business?”

Rose shows up not long after. This time she brings treats in the form of chocolate, from the boutique shop near her sister’s apartment on the other side of town. “Hopefully you can forgive me for my absence,” she wheedles, pushing the box at them across the counter. 

Poe frowns. “I don’t know Rose, it was touch and go for a while.” 

“Yeah,” Rey nods, looking downcast. “We almost didn’t make it.” 

“Could you two _be_ any more dramatic?” Rose rolls her eyes. 

“Yes,” grins Poe, picking out all the dark chocolates and leaving the rest. “We could; you don’t want to see it, it’s a _mess_.” 

“You’re a mess,” retorts Rose, going to fetch her apron. 

Another hour and a half in, Ben arrives, and Rey doesn’t want to go as far as say she’s been expecting him, but…

He’s on the phone again today, except this time he’s wearing a thunderous expression along with his usual three piece suit and tie. He all but slams his card onto the terminal to pay, and then sets up shop in the same corner he did last week, pulling out his laptop and working quickly, all while making scathing replies to whoever is on the other end of the line. 

“He can’t hear us,” remarks Finn once Rey has delivered his coffee and a napkin to him. He had glanced at her briefly in acknowledgment, and Rey figures that’s as good as she’s going to get today. Finn’s comment comes from Rey trying to shush himself and Rose, after they’d made lewd comments towards his ass, and his hands, and his mouth. 

“He might be able to,” Rey counters nervously. “You don’t know.” The last thing she wants is for him to think they all talk filth behind his back in the shop. He might not ever come back. She realises belatedly, that this would upset her greatly.

Finn contemplates this for a moment and then says, loudly, in Ben’s direction: “Rey wants to bone you!” Rey smacks him angrily in the arm and he laughs. Ben doesn’t even look up. “See?” points out Finn, “he’s too engrossed in whatever business he’s got going on.” 

He leaves twenty minutes later, still on the phone, but before he does he slides the napkin Rey had placed under his coffee back across the counter to her. She takes it, confused, and watches him walk out before looking down and flipping it over. It says **ASSHOLE #1** in an oddly familiar cursive, the letters finished with a flourish and a curlicue she can’t quite place as to where she’s seen it before. Underneath that, he’s written his phone number. She laughs and pockets the napkin, allowing Finn and Rose to make jokes at her expense, too pleased to bother ribbing them back.

***

She texts him later that afternoon during her art class. 

_u coming to Maz’s tonight?_

_I’m assuming this is Rey._

_do u give ur number on napkins to other baristas?_

_I try not to make a habit of it._

_r u coming or not?_

_Depends, the last time I was there a girl called me a prick._

_And an asshole._

_maybe u need to see her again_

_tell her off for her behavior_

_I don’t know if she’d like that_

_or, she might like it a lot_

_u never know_

Rey, emboldened by the distance of texting, has hit sent on the last two messages before she can really think better of it. It’s a bit of a gamble, she can’t be certain that Ben feels the same way as she does, but he doesn’t think he would have given her his number otherwise. The tease in her texts, well, those are her own. Hopefully, he’s going to be on the same page as her. 

***

Rey knows she stands out in Maz’s bar, her short, white dress a lighter ensemble than most of those in attendance. She might have worn it in an effort to appeal to Ben, but then, does it matter? He didn’t actually say he was going to come. In fact, he hadn’t even texted her back after her last two messages, no matter how many times she had checked her phone that afternoon, or during the Uber here. (“Rey, Christ, you’re going to get whiplash checking that thing,” Finn had teased when her phone had pinged, Rey’s head snapping down to check if its from Ben, but it's only a text from Rose, saying she’s going to be meet them there and she’s bringing her sister, and then another from Poe, saying that Tallie and Jessika were coming too). 

They arrive before the others, and after buying a beer Rey leans up against a wall while Finn dances with a girl, Jannah - from one of his classes, maybe history? - to Snap's set. Is that who he’s been texting all shifty-like? Rey makes a mental note to ask him about it later. Eventually she spots Poe at the bar with Tallie, and her phone pings with a text from Jessika to let everyone know she's got a table. (Or, two tables she's mashed together in an effort to seat the whole group.)

Hux finds her first before she can make a move, sliding up out of the abyss like the lurker he is. “White,” he intones, “is supposed to represent purity.” He slides her a smug look. “Should _you_ really be wearing that?” 

“So brave of you to wear such a bright shade of red so close to your hair,” she counters sweetly, fingering the silk scarf tossed artfully around his neck. “It makes you look positively skeletal.”

Hux begrudgingly taps the neck of his beer to hers and pats down his orange hair. “Alone again?” he asks, unable to let up. “Becoming a habit for you these last few weeks.”

“I know,” Rey drawls, “to think, I might end up like you.” 

“You wound me.” 

“I can but try.” Rey tips her bottle to her lips, eyes scanning for Ben. “Why do you always manage to find me first, surely you have at least _one_ friend, Hux?” She frowns. “Phasma doesn’t count.”

Hux shrugs. “I am but a simple moth, drawn to a flame.” 

“Quite right,” someone says close to her ear. “And what a flame you are.” 

“Stop,” Rey deadpans, trying to fight the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “It’s all too much.” 

From beside her, Ben chuckles. It's the warmest, sexiest sound she's ever heard, and she has to press her thighs together in a bid to ease the fresh wave of arousal that is creeping into her core. She turns and peers up at him, and he looks _delectable_ in fitted jeans and burgundy shirt so dark it could be the color of blood, unbuttoned loosely at the top of his chest. 

“Ben,” she says, and turns to Hux, “this is Armitage. Armitage, Ben.” Ben reaches out to shake Hux’s hand after a moment’s hesitation. The two eye each other quietly, the air between them thick with tension. Rey looks back and forth with a furrowed brow. “Do you know each other?” she asks, confused. 

“Yes,” replies Hux first, with a snakelike glee as if he’d been waiting for her to ask. “ _Ben_ ,” he says the name slowly and deliberately with a secret smile that Rey wants to punch off his slimy face. “Used to work with my father.” 

Rey knows enough general information about Hux to know that his father is a lawyer. It dawns on her that she’s never actually asked Ben what he does for a living. She looks up at him quizzically. “You’re a lawyer?” 

“Yes,” Hux answers for him, his grin showing too many white teeth. He turns to Rey with artful innocence. “Ben’s grandfather was the one who brought my dear old dad onto the firm. Ben, after taking up the mantle his grandfather left behind, decided that some people didn’t _need_ their jobs.” His voice is cold and hard. “And so he saw to have them removed.” 

Ben’s face is closed off. “Are you quite done?” His hands are clenched into fists at his side, the knuckles white from pressure. He exhales, his nostrils flaring. He turns sharply to Rey with a stony expression. “Armitage is just as much a weasel as his father," he bites out, sharp and bitter. "I expected you to keep better company.” 

Rey doesn’t know what to say and she’s insulted at Ben’s choice of words. She watches his stony look shift into guilt as the realistion dawns on him, and then he looks at her beseechingly. Rey is at a loss for words - because this person doesn’t _sound_ like Ben, her Ben, the one that is always polite to her and talks to her about art and… Rey’s mouth clamps shut on any type of intervention she may have been thinking of, and Hux goes in for the kill. 

“What was the new case you’d been assigned recently?” he queries, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Ah,” he smiles, large and venomous. “That’s right; Organa versus Snoke Enterprises?” 

Rey feels the color draining from her face. She turns to Ben. “ Organa, as in Leia?” 

Ben’s expression is pained. “Rey -” 

It’s too late, her brain is working a mile a minute, the last few weeks coming together in a blur. All the visits to the coffee-house; the questions about profit, the threat of other businesses; Rey is beginning to realise that she’s been nothing more than a means to an end. She’s been _feeding_ him information for his case. 

“Conflict of interest,” continues Hux, turning a blind eye to the wrought, emotional state of his two audience members. “Isn’t that the gossip that’s going around now?” He leans forward to get as close to Ben’s face as he can. “Seeing as the plaintiff was your _mother_.”

Rey wants the ground to crack open beneath her feet and swallow her whole. She can’t believe it. All of it, everything has been a _lie_. Ben isn’t interested in her, he’s only interested in what he can get _out_ of her. He reaches out to touch her. 

“Don’t,” she snarls, frantically trying to quell the burning behind her eyes. She rounds on him, furious. “You venomous _snake_ ,” she spits, shoving his chest so hard he stumbles back. “You _used_ me -” 

“I never used you.” Ben looks desperate, his hands raised halfway between them like he doesn’t know what to do. “Rey -” 

“It’s been quite the scandal,” Hux steam rolls on, _thrilled_ to be at the centre of dischord. “Especially with your _rich_ history. Betrayed your own uncle's firm; that is where you started practising after you graduated isn’t it - to sign on with the First Order, handing all the case files over like a beautifully wrapped _gift_. Almost bankrupted your own family, and now with your mother dead you’re trying to sell out her last remaining asset to the highest bidder. Just like your grandfather.” Hux turns to Rey, fake concern playing across his face. “And to think, that’s where you work.” 

Ben reaches for her but she shoves him off, ignoring his plaintive “Rey, please-” to head straight to the bathroom. Behind her, she hears the smack of a first connecting with skin, and the raucous that ensues, but she doesn’t look back, too busy dashing away her tears with the back of her hand.

***

When she pushes open the door her first reaction is frustration; someone is currently occupying the bathroom. 

Not just one someone, but two, and very familiar ones at that. 

Rose detaches her mouth from Finn’s. “Oh my god.” 

Rey stares, open mouthed. “You are on the counter - oh God no I don’t need to see this.” She turns away, eyes shut, and then turns back. “How long has this been going on for - _ohmygod_ you’ve been sleeping with Rose!” She points a finger accusingly at Finn. “That’s who you’ve been texting all this time -” 

Rose says “The counter is as good a place as any.” 

Finn says “The door was _shut_ you know.” 

“It wasn’t locked!” 

Rose rolls her eyes. “Everyone knows the door doesn’t lock,” then, “Rey, are you crying?” 

Immediately her friends separate, and Rey turns to let Rose fix her bra and for Finn to adjust his jeans. She takes the moment to try and stop herself from crying, but it’s a failed, futile attempt. 

Finn puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Rey, what is it?”

She can’t stop the tears now, not when Finn is looking at her like this and Rose is rubbing her back soothingly. Rey cries properly, sniffling into Finn’s chest as he hugs her. She pulls away eventually and tells them everything that’s just happened, and what Ben’s doing. Rose wets a hand towel and presses it to Rey’s flushed face, dabbing gently at her flushed skin. 

Rey sniffs. “I’m an idiot.” 

“No, you’re not,” counters Finn angrily. “How would you have known? We all thought he liked you, genuinely… It always seemed real.” 

“I guess it’s his job to lie,” Rey remarks tonelessly. “I want to go home,” she tells them. “I didn’t expect to see you both in here - I’m sorry I interrupted -” 

“Don’t be stupid,” says Rose. “We’re not going to let you go alone.” She feels around her jeans and then pokes Finn in the ribs. “Can you please call an Uber; I left my purse on the table.” 

He nods. “I can, but my stuff is there too.” He grabs a hold of Rey. “Come on, let’s get our things and get out of here.” 

***

The table is, of course, immediately concerned as to all the goings on, and Rey, Rose and Finn fill them in as briefly as they can under the circumstances.

Poe slams his beer bottle down and says, “I’ll fucking kill him.”

Tallie and Jessika nod vehemently, a chorus of violence and blood lust. “Where did he go?” snarls Tallie, getting up on her chair to look around the bar. 

“I think they escorted him out,” says Paige, Rose’s sister. “I saw the bouncers chuck a guy.” She fondles in her bag for a moment before handing Rey a makeup wipe and a mirror. “For your eyes,” she says gently, because her mascara is running and she’s blinking every other second to try and clear her vision. 

“Thanks,” mutters Rey, trying not to let her embarrassment eat her alive. 

“That wasn’t Ben they took out,” Poe is saying to Paige, “they took out the ginger-haired dude, Hux. Ben knocked him flat on his ass but then Hux lashed out with his broken beer bottle; that shit doesn't fly in any bar, especially Maz's.” He sees Rey’s surprised expression and says, “I saw the tail end of it and Snap filled me in on the rest.” 

Jessica, Finn and Rose start up another chorus of _fuck hims_ that don’t make Rey feel any better whatsoever. “Wait,” says Paige loudly, "wait - guys, hold on a second." She tries to get them to quieten down. “Are you guys talking about Benjamin Solo?” 

Rose stares at her sister. “Yes, Paige, keep up.” 

Paige makes a face at her in response. “You _keep up_ ; Benjamin Solo, as in Leia and Han’s son?” She looks imploringly around the table. 

“Yeah,” mumbles Rey, “I guess so?” 

Paige stares at them all for a moment before laughing. It takes a moment because no one understands what the fuck is happening. “Are you serious?” Paige asks, and then turns quickly back to Rey. “Ben’s not trying to sell off The Resistance; he’s trying to _save_ it.” 

“What are you on about?” Rose asks hotly. “Did you not hear -” 

“Of course I heard!” Paige cuts her off and grabs Rey’s hand. “I work for Luke Skywalker, Ben’s uncle, he owns the firm that represented Leia and Han. When Leia died she left the coffee house to Ben, and he signed a contract to sell the shop to Snoke Enterprises.” Paige is speaking a mile a minute, desperately trying to get her story out. “Ben _used_ to work for the First Order, he has done for a number of years, but two weeks ago he resigned; I don't know why. He’s been working with me and Luke to try and save the shop.” She points at Rose. “That’s why my work has been over this way, I’ve been meeting _Ben_.” 

Rey thinks, and not for the first time tonight, that this is _too much to handle._

Rose suddenly snaps her fingers together, her face lighting up. “That’s where I recognise him from, I saw him when I dropped you off for your first meeting!” She points at Rey. “I told you I’d seen him somewhere!”

“So, Ben’s the good guy?” Jessika asks, and then takes a long, exaggerated swig of her beer. “Because I can’t keep up.”

“Yeah.” Paige nods and smiles at Rey. “He’s a good guy.” 

Rey sits up and looks around the bar. “Is he still here?” Then, a little self-consciously, she adds, "do I look okay?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning, filth ahead.

She finds Ben out the back (it takes some wheedling on her behalf to have the bouncer let her by), he’s sitting on a stool surrounded by boxes of beer and a number of half stocked shelves, his long limbs making him look like a disgruntled bird of prey perched on it’s nest, as Maz Kanata, all five foot two of her, fusses over him. 

“I’m fine,” he says, and Rey gets the distinct impression that he’s been saying it for some time, and that he's said it many times before judging from the familiarity of his tone. “Maz, please -” 

“I’m just checking -” the older woman grumbles, dexterous fingers poking and prodding at his ribs and arms.

Rey clears her throat. 

“Rey?” Ben’s eyes have honed in on her, and it makes her chest ache to see the hopeful look on his face. 

Maz steps back and eyes them both with a bald look. “You two know each other?” 

Rey and Ben both mumble _yes_. Rey is quick off the mark. “How do you know Maz?” 

“I’ve known the Skywalkers and the Solos for years,” replies Maz, waving a hand nonchalantly in Ben’s direction. “I’ve even changed his diapers when he was just a young baby.” 

“Thank you, Maz,” says Ben tightly. “Would you mind giving us a moment?” 

“Sure, sure,” she throws her hands in the air and walks off, patting Rey gently on the side as she passes by. “Be gentle with him,” she tells her with a wink, and shuts the door as she leaves.

The silence is heavy and awkward. Ben’s hair is disheveled and his cheeks are slightly flushed but other than that he seems okay. He unfolds himself and stands, approaching her gently and slowly, as if she might be scared away. He stops within a few feet off her, careful not to crowd her and make her uneasy. 

“I can explain,” he starts, and his deep voice isn’t as smooth as it normally is. It cracks, only just, but enough for Rey to catch it. Although he doesn’t bear any physical injuries, he looks pained. “I -” 

Rey talks over him. “Are you really going to help the Resistance?” 

Ben blinks. “Yes. I’ve been meeting with your current manager, Kaydel Co’Connix, and with a young solicitor from my uncle’s firm -” 

“Paige Tico,” Rey supplies, and he nods. 

“How did you know?” he looks confused, his eyes flitting from her to the door as if he’s trying to figure out how their brief separation has lent her all this knowledge. He pushes his hair off his face and the tips of his ears poke out. Rey tries not to smile. 

“Paige is Rose’s older sister,” she explains. “I was about to leave when she figured out who you were. Ben,” she wrings her hands together. “I’m sorry; I didn’t give you a change to explain -” 

“In all fairness,” he cuts in smoothly, “I wouldn’t have given myself the chance to explain either. Hux clearly takes after his father,” he says with some level of iciness. 

Rey bites her lip and smiles in a self-deprecating manner. “What do you say, can I buy you a beer?”

“I’d like that very much.” 

***

Rey leads him back to the bar, where the crowd is dancing and drinking and shouting away as if nothing has happened. They stand in line to get a drink, and Rey can see Ben holding himself back, his fingers twitching as he tries to figure out whether or not he can touch her. She makes it easier on him and leans in to his side. Tentatively, he presses his palm to the small of her back, fingers splayed wide to steady her in the throng of people. 

“I can’t believe you know Maz,” Rey says loudly above the din, an olive branch of neutral conversation. “Is that why you were here that first Monday that I met you?”

Ben leans down so he doesn’t have to yell. “Not quite; she’s currently dating my Godfather, he works remotely most of the time. He’s in town for a few weeks; he wanted to meet here and talk things over, about the business and everything.” Ben goes silent for a moment. "I haven't talked to what's left of my family in almost ten years."

Rey frowns. “Is your godfather a local?” 

“No,” says Ben. “He’s from out of town. A truck-driver -” 

“- named Chewbacca,” Rey finishes, grinning despite herself. 

“You know Chewie?” Ben, for the first time, looks bewildered. 

Rey nods. “Yeah, he always used to pop into the shop when he was in town when Leia was still around.” 

“I’m not surprised he likes you,” admits Ben. “You’re exquisite.” The word makes her shiver, and Ben must notice because he crowds into her space a bit more, and she lets him. “I must admit, I was surprised to see that you were… friendly, with Armitage Hux. I'm sorry I let my jealousy get the better of me.” His tone is slightly sulky, and Rey snorts fondly. In another time, she'd have given him a right ribbing.

“We’re hardly friends;," she explains. "We have poli-sci together. That and here are the only two places we converse, really.” 

Ben, who still has his hand on her back, pulls her closer and bends down so his lips are touching her ear. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and Rey’s knees go _weak_. She is shocked into silence, and Ben must worry that she’s unhappy that he’s crossed a line too quickly because he moves to pull away. She can already see the apology on his tongue. 

Rey kisses him first, roughly; standing on the tips of her toes to catch his retreating mouth. 

It takes him off guard and their mouths don’t quite line up right to start, Rey straining as much as she can to reach him, before Ben catches up to what’s happening and lowers his head to fix that. Suddenly everything is _better_ ; their mouths are slick and hot and Ben’s tongue slides between her lips while Rey fists her hand in his shirt and brings him in closer to her. 

Ben makes a pleased sound at that. His other hand finds her hip, dwarfing it, thumb stroking her hip bone. Rey knows she is an enthusiastic kisser, it’s just what she likes, and Ben for the most part seems to enjoy it. She doesn’t think she’s enjoyed kissing someone like this in a long time (present company excluded) and for a time she’s content just to _make out_ , unfazed by the jostling of the crowd and surrounded pleasantly by Ben’s warmth. 

When they pull apart, Ben’s mouth is open and his breathing is ragged. “To be clear,” he says, “I’m not usually in the habit of making out with women ten years my junior in the back of local bars.” 

“It has happened twice now,” she tells him with a cheeky smile. 

Ben tuts, looking chastised. “That is very true.” 

Rey grins, reaching up to kiss him again. “Maybe,” she says against his lips, “it can be our thing.” 

Ben smiles back, just as wide. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.” 

***

“I’d like you to come home with me.” Ben murmurs the words into her ear after they have been making out, in a fashion reminiscent of teenage years, in a dark corner away from the dancefloor. His nose bumps at her temple, his lips tracing the shell of her ear.

In all her life she has never been so quick to agree to anything. “I need to tell the others!” she says loudly over the music. “Wait for me by the door.” Ben nods, and Rey slips through the crowd, looking for the familiar faces of her friends. She finds them at their tables and grins when they all look at expectantly. 

“I have to go!” she tells them, and she can’t hide the grin that stretches across her face. They all cheer raucously, and Rey cranes her neck to look at Ben near the coat-check. He’s watching her, a feat easily accomplished by him being taller than almost every single other patron in the bar, and Rey feels warmth spread through her. She motions she’ll be five minutes. “I’ll be home in the morning,” she tells Finn, and then adds, “maybe,” with a cheeky grin. 

Finn fist pumps the air. “Sweet, sweet solitude.” 

Rey looks at him smugly. “Really? I thought you might take Rose back," she says glibly. "What was it you said, _'I have friends,'_ ” she says in a delighted mimicry of his own words to her the other week, “ _I j_ _ust don’t stick my tongue down their throats on a student night at Maz’s_.'” 

The table bursts into another chorus of yells and cheers while Rose hides her face in her hands, cheeks flushing at the teasing. 

“Alright I really have to go,” Rey says, again, with a round of hugs and goodbyes and, because Poe is the _devil_ , a tequila shot he says he’s been saving for her. “He’s waiting for me, I’ll see you all later.” She blows them a cheeky kiss as she departs.

“Everything alright?” asks Ben when she reaches him, her coat already in his hands. He helps her put it on. “I’ve called a cab,” he says, as she pulls it tight around her. 

Rey smiles at him. “Perfect.” 

***

She should have known from the suits he wore alone that Ben wasn’t hard done by. His apartment is central to the city in a luxury building that has a doorman who tips his hat as they enter. 

“Thank you, Mitaka,” Ben says, pressing a few notes into the other man’s gloved hand. “It’s cold out, stay warm.” 

Mitaka smiles and ushers them in. “Thank you, sir.” 

They cross a foyer decorated in chromes and golds to a set of elevators. Ben doesn’t hit the penthouse button, but the floor he does press isn’t far from it. 

Ben, for his part, hasn’t removed his hands from her the entire ride home, and the elevator is no exception. Whether it be a hand on her knee, fingers on the back of her neck or his palm pressed to her back, as if she might disappear if he doesn’t hold her down. When they get inside his apartment Rey is not surprised to find it as tidy as he is, monochromatic shades of grey, with a stunning view of the city. 

But she hasn’t come here for sightseeing. She rounds on him quickly, sliding her hands into the waistband of Ben's jeans.

"Take these off,” she says. “All of it - off.” 

“So impatient,” Ben grinds out, but he’s helping her, shucking off his thick coat and fingers unbuttoning his shirt while she pushes his jeans down his thighs. “You’re entirely too overdressed,” he tells her when he’s down to just his underpants. He maneuvers her bodily to the couch and Rey turns, showing him the zip of her dress. Ben takes his time dragging the zip down her spine, exhaling when he sees she isn’t wearing a bra. Rey, her back still to him, rubs her hands across her tits as they are exposed, looking at him coyly over her shoulder. Ben presses kisses to her shoulder blades as he pushes the dress over her hips. 

She is only wearing underwear, simple, seamless white cotton in a high cut so there wouldn’t be lines showing beneath her dress, but Ben groans and palms her buttocks, squeezing the tanned, bare skin and running his thumb up and under the band at her waist. He turns her, eyes falling greedily to her breasts, and he delights in the way her nipples tighten in the cool air. 

“Lean back against the armrest,” he says, and his voice is different; demanding, a deep, warm whiskey sound that makes Rey shiver with anticipation.

Rey does so. Ben bends down and noses at her neck. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?” he asks, and there’s no mistaking that it isn’t _really_ a question. Rey tips her head to look at him and feels her chest constrict at the hungry expression on his face. 

“Yes,” she breathes, and leans back against the couch. Her hands unconsciously move back to her breasts as she watches him, his face darkening as his eyes drop to her chest. Rey strokes her fingers over her nipples boldly. 

“I love your tits.” Ben’s expression is ravenous, his body leaning over hers in a way that makes her feel small. Her arousal spikes even more at the thought. “So small,” he says, still watching her touch herself. Her fingers falter at the words, an insecurity that she hasn’t expected, but Ben sees it quickly. “I like small tits,” he continues, before she can get caught in her own head. He palms at the bulge in his underwear. “Play with your nipples, sweetheart.” His voice is like gravel. “I want to see them get hard.”

There isn’t even the slightest moment of hesitation. Rey does exactly as he bids, pinching her nipples roughly and letting out a sharp, breathy whine. She pauses, easing up on the pressure, rolling her nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each hand. Her mouth is open, breath tattered as she squirms under her own ministrations. 

Ben is still palming at his confined cock, the muscles in his abdomen clenching as her eyes dart down to watch him. “Rey.” He says her name in a way that comes deep from his throat and her eyes shoot back to his face. “How do they feel?” He reaches out with one hand to lightly brush her swollen nipples with the back of his knuckles. 

Rey gasps again before admitting, quietly, “So good...”

Ben’s eyes are black, the pupils almost overtaking the brown of his iris. “Pinch them. Hard.” She does so, clenching her thighs together as pleasure shoots from her chest to her cunt. “Harder.” She looks at him, unsure for a moment before he tilts his head. “Harder,” he repeats, a clear demand. 

Rey obeys without question, flexing her fingers before squeezing tight at her breasts. She gasps and looks down to watch her fingers go white with pressure at the knuckle. “Like this?” she asks. Her nipples are swollen from blood rush into hard sensitive peaks when she lets them go. 

Ben nods. “Yes, good girl.” There it is again, the _good girl_ that has Rey weak at her knees. “Such a good girl.” Without any forewarning he bends, catching one of her nipples in his mouth and swirling his tongue over the swollen tip. He pulls off with a hard suck to her bruised areola. He reaches down with his right hand and Rey opens her legs instinctively, hips thrusting out to tempt him to touch her. Ben smiles, knowing, and refrains, looking down instead to inspect where the moisture of her cunt has darkened the white cotton of her panties.

Rey squirms. “Please…” 

Ben looks up at her sharply and without a word, smacks her tit with the flats of his fingers. Rey keens from the stimuli of pain and pleasure. “Patience,” he tells her, the way one might say to a child, “is a virtue.” He rakes his eyes over, and Rey knows she must look a debauched mess but she doesn’t care, and by the way Ben is looking at her, he enjoys it immensely. He smoothes his palm over her breast, a balm from the previous painful warning. “What do you want, Rey?” He tightens his grip on her breast. “Tell me.” 

“Touch me… and keep talking.” She tries to stop her face from blooming red at her admission, shocked and embarrassed by her own desperate need for his deep voice. When she sees the brief flash of displeasure cross his face she adds, quick and coy, “Please.”

He smiles and drops to his knees. 

He leans forward, his eyes fluttering shut as he presses a short, close lipped kiss to the top of her thigh, moving his mouth upward until his hot breath is directly on her cotton covered mound. At first he noses at the crease of her thigh, inhaling in a way that makes her breath catch in her throat. His hands are hardly idly, flitting from her hips to her waist, long fingers splaying out and spanning the width of he, measuring her rib cage and reminding her of how _small_ she is compared to him. 

It takes a moment for Rey’s brain to catch up to her body when Ben’s mouth finally slants over her core; licking her firmly through her underwear and tasting her slick as it seeps through the thin material. His hands stroke up and down her legs for a moment before he hooks two of his fingers in her panties, tugging them down so she can step out of them. He maneuvers her body where he wants, one of his large hands gripping her calf to bring it over his shoulder and open her up for him. Rey’s stomach flutters momentarily at the absurdity of the position of her standing astride him, her self-consciousness getting the better of her as he stares silently at her cunt. His warm breath ghosts over her sensitive flesh and Rey starts to squirm under the inspection. As if he knows she’s reached her limit he looks up at her and holds her eyes with his own. 

“You’ve got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” Ben murmurs, and the words strike low in her belly. Rey moans and grabs his hair instinctively, tugging to move his face where she wants it. 

The first touch of his tongue to her bare, needy cunt makes her see stars. Rey can’t remember being this turned on in her life. The build up to get to this has been monumental, and now all she wants is for Ben to bury his tongue in her pussy and make her _come_. She pushes her hips up to his face, chasing his tongue as it slides slickly through her folds. She’s so wet she can hear it, the way his stiffened tongue is dragging through her. 

Below her, he chuckles. The sound vibrates through her body and makes her twitch, her cunt clenching at emptiness in its need to be filled. “Are you enjoying this?” he asks, lips hovering over her clit as he looks up at her. Rey is speechless, reduced to nothing but a whimpering, desperate mess as she looks down at him and nods desperately. 

“Yes, yes, _yes._ ” 

Satisfied with her answer he continues, nose bumping at her clit, and brings his massive hands down to frame her core, his thumbs pulling her apart gently to open her up to him. His tongue is velvet heat on her vulva, and her moans are all the encouragement he needs to drag his tongue up the length of her, up to her clit, finally, which shoots white hot pleasure through her entire body at finally being given the attention it’s been craving. Rey tugs, hard, at his hair when he moves to pull away. For a second she thinks he’s going to be displeased, but then his head pushes gently into her hand and she takes the silent gesture at will and curls her fingers tighter, pressing him in close. She’s almost there - the familiar pressure ramping up behind her pubic bone, the tense coil of her stomach muscles - all of it a prelude to what she’s sure will be a glorious orgasm. 

Then Ben stops, and Rey wants to _murder_ him. “Fucking delicious,” he says into her pussy, with little regard for her desperate pleas. “You taste so fucking good, Rey.” He sucks hard at her clit with his plush mouth until she cries out. “Did you know that? Do you know how good your pussy tastes?” 

“N - no,” Rey breathes. “Please, please I need to -”

“No?” He asks, the simple query sliding innocently from his mouth and cutting her off. Without warning, two of his thick fingers slide into her. He pumps his hand, filling her briefly for a glorious moment before pulling them out. Rey whines, looking down at him desperately. He stands, pressing up against her and sliding his slick-coated fingers across her lower lip. “Taste yourself,” he says softly, pushing gently at the seam of her lips. 

Rey opens her mouth and his fingers slide in, the pads pressing down onto her tongue as she moves it around to taste her own slick; tart, musk... _different_. 

“Good girl.” There it is again. 

Rey goes still, content to suckle on his fingers under the praise. Ben, too, is holding his breath, and Rey takes a moment from her delirium to admire this face, shining with her wetness. He hardly seems to mind, too focused on the way his fingers slide in and out of her mouth, and Rey moans, a low sound in the back of her throat, just to see him swallow.

“Are you going to suck my cock like this?” His breath catches when she nods, lips sliding over his knuckles. “Yeah,” his voice is shot, raw and low. “You are, aren’t you? You’re going to look beautiful Rey, on your knees with your lips wrapped around my cock.” He pulls his fingers out of her mouth and grabs her by the jaw, drawing her mouth to his in a hot, rough kiss. Their teeth clack together at the intensity and Rey licks into his mouth and tastes more of herself. “Get on your knees,” he orders, and Rey slides to the ground obediently. 

She spreads her legs slightly to distribute her weight until she’s comfortable on her knees. Ben threads his hands into her hair and tugs her forward, and she glances up to see that he’s breathing heavily through his mouth, his beautiful, full lips parted as he waits for her. 

“These need to come off,” she murmurs in relation to his black briefs, which have put up a good fight against his straining erection thus far. She shimmies them down his legs so he can step out of them and his cock springs free, jutting proudly from his body and into Rey’s face. 

She stares at it for a moment, taking in the length and the girth and realises that he’s bigger than the dildo she has at home (tucked safely into the third drawer of her nightstand in box beneath a myriad paperwork from old classes, where it won’t be accidentally stumbled upon.) She reaches out with her right hand to stroke the length of him from base to tip, delighting in the way he groans.She trails her fingers lightly over the head, transfixed when it bobs against his stomach. 

“Rey…” He sounds strained, so Rey puts him out of his misery and wraps her mouth around the head of his cock, suckling softly. She does consider for a moment how she’s going to fit him all the way down her throat (let alone in her body), and again, as if he knows what she’s thinking, the hand in her hair pulls her back slightly, making her release him with a soft, wet, _pop_. 

“What?” She asks innocently, and kitten-licks the head again. 

He still sounds strained, but there’s a note of concern. “I won’t force you -” 

She wraps her hand around the base of his cock and tugs, quick, cutting him off. “I know you won’t,” she says, soft and sure, then, a little more boldly: “But I want you to.” 

He makes a sound in his throat, one she can’t discern, and when she looks up at him his face is a myriad of emotions that she hasn’t seen before. Tender, soft, and maybe amazed; his cheeks are flushed and he can’t stop staring at her. She presses her cheek to his cock and strokes her face along the side of it, lips catching at the head as he catches his breath and decides what to do next. 

Rey mouths at the head again and, as if broken from his spell, Ben twists his hand in her hair and yanks her forward, at the same time pushing his hips up and out. His cock is huge, there’s no doubt, and it hasn’t gotten any smaller during their reprieve. But Rey was ready for this, _wanting_ it, and she opens her mouth and relaxes her jaw, tilting her head back so that he can slide the impressive length down her throat, her lips closing around the base of him. She swallows around him, her gag reflex kicking in for a moment before she tampers it down. Ben doesn’t hold her in place too long, uncannily knowing her limits and allowing her to withdraw. When she looks at him next, his lower lip is indented from his own teeth marks. 

She catches her breath and traces her fingers over him. He pulses in her hand, eager to be back within the warm confines of her mouth, but Rey takes her time, savoring the feel of his hot, satin-like flesh and the way it flushes under her hands. Her thumb strokes at the vein running up the underside and she plays her fingers briefly over his balls, firm and tight and drawing up beneath his cock in anticipation. 

She smiles up at him. “Are you going to fuck my face, Ben?” 

“Yes, sweetheart,” he says firmly. “And then I’m going to fuck your pretty pussy so fucking hard you’ll walk with a _limp_ tomorrow.” 

Rey grins. “I’ll hold you to that.” 

“Enough.” Gone is the tender, soft look from before. Rey can see that with her submission, the dominant, steeled side of him has emerged, and he leaves little room for teasing as he pulls her back to his cock.

He does stay true to his word, fucking her face firmly so that she’s constantly on the edge of breathless, saliva gathering at the corners of her mouth and trailing down to her chin. He _uses_ her without inhibition, hips pistoning forward to drive himself as far as he can go. Rey steadies herself with her hands on his thighs, feeling his muscles jumping beneath the skin. 

Her jaw is aching by the time he lets up, withdrawing his cock from her mouth and letting her suck in air. He rubs her face against the wet side of it, and she presses kisses to the dark, springy hair at the base. Her chest is heaving and she thinks that maybe her eyes are glassy, but Ben is looking down at her like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, a fever burning behind his eyes. She watches, enthralled, as his eyes flit from her face to between her legs. 

“What’s this?” The words are an absolute purr of delight as Rey shuffles back to see what he’s talking about. 

Embarrassment, hot and steady, licks at her spine as she realises she’s _dripped_ onto his hardwood floor. She moves to close her legs in mortification - this has _never_ happened before, she has never been this turned on _ever_ \- but Ben’s foot at the inside of her knee stops her, keeping her thighs spread apart. 

“So desperate,” he murmurs, looking down at her. “That you’re _dripping_ for me, aren’t you sweetheart?” He strokes her face with his hand in a gentle caress. “You’ve dirtied my beautifully clean floors with your filthy cunt.” 

She tries not to let her excitement show, but even at his words her traitorous pussy clenches, and she feels more slick slide out of her and onto the floor. For a horrifying moment, she thinks he might make her lick it up. She’s never done anything like that before, and she honestly doesn’t know if she’ll go along with it if he asks, but then he tucks his hands beneath her arms and pulls her up to her feet. He slides a hand between her shaking legs, stroking at her sopping cunt and pushing his fingers into her with a squelch. 

“So wet for me.” He kisses her jaw as he speaks. “Such a good girl, Rey, so good for me.” He presses in a third finger and her cunt throbs at the intrusion, her hole aching at the stretch. “I should make you take my whole hand,” he says, fingers curling and stroking at her walls. “Fuck my whole fist into you until you _scream_.” 

“Yes.” It’s almost a sob, but Rey can’t help it, his thumb is now on her clit, rotating in small, gentle circles. She’s so _close_. 

“You just want to come, don’t you?” She buries her face into his chest and nods, her hands gripping the arm he’s fucking her with while his other holds her steady at her back. “I’ll let you come,” he says, benevolent, and Rey could weep. “But not yet.” He pulls his hand from her and she cries out at the sudden emptiness and the loss of her orgasm. He pushes his wet fingers into her mouth once more, tilting his head as he watches her. “You’re going to come on my cock and then I’m going to fill you,” he smiles, dark and delightful. “I’m going to fill you with my come and you’re going to _beg_ for it.” 

***

He settles her on her back in the middle of his huge bed, crawling up her body between her thighs. His clock leaves a shiny trail of precome as it drags up her stomach. Rey touches it, her hand creeping down between her legs to touch her own wetness. She gathers it on her fingers before wrapping her hand around his cock and stroking it lazily. 

“So beautiful.” Ben’s voice is muffled as he kisses the hollow of her throat, his palms pressed to the bed on either side of her head, bracketing her in and supporting his weight. 

Rey kisses a little mole on his shoulder. “You’re beautiful.”

She can feel him smile against her jawline. “I’m going to fuck you now,” he says, as conversationally as ordering his coffee. “Spread your legs for me.” She feels him shift; his hips undulating to rub his cock against her. 

She thinks for a moment that he may take his time with her, ease himself in to let her dictate the pace, but she’s sorely mistaken as he pushes in swiftly in one smooth thrust. Rey groans at the stretch; she hasn’t felt this full in a long time. She writhes on his cock as he bottoms out inside her. 

“Incredible,” he says hoarsely, giving her a moment to adjust. Rey does nothing but moan in agreement, her leg hooking over his hip to drag him deeper. “Touch yourself,” he grunts, pushing up onto his knees to hold her legs up.

She complies, looking down and wanting to see his thick cock disappearing inside of her as she paws at her breasts, fingers worrying her nipples into points. Ben fucks her mercilessly like that, ramming into her with sharp snaps of his hips, railing up against her cunt and pressing her down into the mattress. She’s not going to come like this and they both know it, but Rey can tell that that’s the point; he’s been edging her this entire evening and he’s not going to stop until she’s a _mess_. 

In a sudden, swift move, Ben hauls her up, and he swings his legs over the side of the bed before encouraging her to climb up onto his lap. Rey eagerly obliges because she _knows_ she’ll come from this. She sinks down onto his cock, taking him all the way into her with little preamble. 

“So wet,” grunts Ben, getting his hands on her hips to hold her steady. “So fucking wet.” 

“Yeah,” pants Rey, “all because of you.” 

He groans and leans his head against her shoulder, his hips thrusting up into her. The angle makes the head of his cock rub against her front wall on every entrance, and Rey cants her hips and chases it desperately. She feels his strong thighs sift beneath as he plants his feet firmly on the ground to get leverage before fucking up into her with earnest. Rey finds his pace and meets it, twining her fingers together behind his neck and enjoying the way his eyes stay transfixed on her bouncing tits, his breath hot against her sternum. 

His hips slap into hers so hard it might bruise. “So good Rey… so fucking good.” He pants against her, his whole body tense, and Rey pulls his head closer to her chest. 

“Please,” she says breathlessly. 

His mouth latches onto her nipple and she sighs in pleasure as he starts to suck. It’s so good - all of it - it’s almost overwhelming and Rey can’t imagine it getting any better until his pace stutters and he crushes her to his chest. Rey is close, and she knows he is too; his cock his rocking up into her cervix and it isn’t even uncomfortable; she’s so caught up in the heat and pleasure of it all that it’s just one more _thing_ to add to the myriad of sensations. 

“Close…” she trails off, working her hips frantically. 

“Are you going to come, Rey?” he asks, almost as breathless as she is. He maneuvers one hand between their bodies, fingers searching wetness and flesh for her clit. When his thumb hits the mark she keens, high and loud. “That’s my good girl,” he tells her. 

“Please,” begs Rey, caught between the girth of him inside her and his fingers on her clit, “please let me come, please.” She’s murmuring nonsense, words slurring into one another as she tells him how good he feels, how thick is cock is, how she wants him to use her. Through this she begins to feel it crest; her own release. A tight coil low in her stomach, a flush spreading up her thighs, and Rey clutches Ben to her thrusts her hips down frantically, doing anything she can to push herself over the edge. 

Ben’s voice sounds short and sharp in her ear. “Come for me; Rey, come on my cock.” He thrusts up into her, hard, and presses down on her clit and she _does_ , she comes with a shout and she feels liquid gush wetly from between her legs. 

Ben hasn’t stopped; he’s still thrusting up into her, letting her ride it out. The pressure of his cock is starting to hurt now as she comes down, and she knows it will ache in the morning, but all she cares about is Ben -

“Come inside me.” Her own voice is a wrecked, broken thing from her own arousal. She finds his mouth and slants her own over it. It isn’t even kissing at this point, it’s just mouths pressing together. “Please,” she says hotly, feeling his fingers clench and his hips stutter again. “I want it.” 

That’s all it takes. Ben goes rigid, his cock buried to the hilt inside her, and she feels the strange, foreign warmth of his spend spilling inside her. Her cunt clenches hungrily, and she closes her eyes, resting her forehead against his as sparks shoot behind her eyelids. Ben is panting, his broad chest heaving as Rey trembles against him; their sweat slowly cooling as they still. Ben drags his lips across her cheek in a weak kiss, and Rey sighs happily. He runs his hands gently down her back, through her cooling sweat to her ass, pulling her in closer in a half hearted imitation of a thrust that makes her groan. 

They roll and wriggle into a horizontal position on the bed after a moment, and Ben lays his arm out for her to lean her head on. Rey has never been much for snuggling, but this time she takes up the offer and burrows her face into bicep contentedly. His other hand traces patterns on her abdomen lightly, nonsense things are just this side of ticklish. 

His eyes are bright when she looks up at him. “What?” she asks playfully.

“You’re beautiful.” 

Rey flushes. “You’ve said that a few times now.” 

“That’s because I mean it,” he says, and his voice is raw. 

He leans forward, and teases at her swollen, sensitive cunt, gathering some of his come that is leaking from her and pushing it back inside gently with his forefinger. She whimpers, a soft sound that he shushes as he continues pushing his spend into her. It’s sore, yes, but it’s also making her _want_ him again, and Rey isn’t quite ready to go another round so soon. When her thighs shift in discomfort he acquiesces, and she snatches his hand as it retreats and sucks his fingers into her mouth, tasting their mixed spend on her tongue. 

“You’re filthy,” he mutters, kissing her with a bruising force and licking into her mouth. “You’re filthy and you’re _mine_.” 

Rey grins, pulling back to smile at him. “Does that mean I don’t have to sneak out once you fall asleep?” 

Ben, for the most part, just looks confused. “Why would you do that?” 

“That’s just normal hook-up etiquette.” She rolls her eyes teasingly. 

He goes quiet for a moment. “Is that why you were so mad at me - the morning after we had first slept together? 

Rey fidgets, picking at non-existent lint on his immaculate bed. “Yes.” She clears her throat, because she probably owes him a bit of an explanation. “People don’t usually… stick around,” she says, hesitantly. “You know, after that, or… ever, really.” She takes a deep breath. "Everyone always leaves." Ben is looking at her with his serious, dark eyes. Rey shrugs and looks away. “I’m not used to it, and then you touched my clock -”

“Yes, your alarm was going off.” His tone clearly states that this is the obvious. "It was _loud_."

“I don’t like people touching my things.” 

“Ahh,” it must all click into place for him. He strokes her arm thoughtfully, fingers tracing curlicues and strange patterns across her skin. “I wouldn’t have touched your clock if I’d known; my apologies.” He pauses for a moment. “I didn’t mean to be rude, when I was leaving,” he says by way of explanation. “Regarding our -” he waves his hand at their naked, intertwined bodies, “- frivolities.” 

Rey balks at him. “Did you just say frivolities? How old _are_ you?” 

Ben bristles. “I’m thirty-three, not that it matters. My apologies for having a vocabulary.” He shushes her when she laughs. “We had both been drinking, and I didn’t have any protection. You said you were fine with it -” 

“I was fine with it.” Rey rolls onto her side to look at him. “I wasn’t wasted. I remember picking you up, bringing you home; I remember that I told you I was on the pill and clean.” She touches his face. “I wanted you Ben, just like I want you now.” 

“Good,” he says, smiling contentedly. His fingers start tracing patterns again. “I’m going to do whatever I can to save the shop.” Rey looks up at him, surprised by the turn of the conversation. “I mean it,” he says, and she knows he does; she can hear it in the raw, ragged honest of his words. “It was you who made me change my mind; I stumbled onto you and you were so _in love_ with the place and the people, you were so proud of the good things.” He sighs. “I wanted to be something that made you proud, too.” 

Rey smiles and kisses him softly. “I should have figured it out sooner.” 

He looks at her quizzically. “Figured what?” 

“Leia never told us,” she says quietly into the space between them. “We would always ask, especially me. Every time I did Leia would always look up with this sad smile and say, _‘someone I love dearly._ ’” Rey can feel her eyes pricking with tears. She isn’t surprised to see wetness in his eyes when she looks at him, either. “It was you who painted the ceiling, wasn't it?” 

Ben blushes, pink spreading all across his face to the very tips of his ears. Rey finds it delightful. She traces the words _The Resistance_ in the fanciful curlicue from the shop door onto his chest; a replica of his own handiwork. “I liked space,” he mumbles, "and art." 

“I am proud of you,” she says fiercely. “I know she is, too.” 

Ben takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. “Well,” he says in a tone of great resignation. “You’ve successfully seduced me away from any other coffee-shop. I’m yours for life.” He flashes her a cheeky, lopsided grin. “Which means you can touch me as much as you want.”

Rey smiles and kisses his cheek. “I guess that makes me yours.” 

“Only if you want to be.” 

“I want to,” she tells him, and she hopes he can see the way her heart is full to bursting with happiness. “I really, really want to.” 

He grins, cheeky and lopsided. “Good girl.” 


End file.
